Memories
by ToothFairy
Summary: During the course of Day 4, Tony and Michelle think back to their history together, to both happy and unhappy times...
1. Tony

He remembers the exact moment he fell in love with her. It had been in that dark hallway here at CTU, she had had been upset, crying, and he had justtaken her into his embrace and felt somewhat surprised that she actually seemed to be calming down a little. And then he pulled back, relying totally on his instincts as he pushed the curls out of her face. He remembers the softness of her cheek, and how his thumb had refused to stay away from it, and kept stroking it ever so gently. And as her eyes met his, there was such an honest vulnerability in them that he knew without a doubt that he had never seen in Nina's, and that was when he felt his heart move past just caring, just attraction- to a kind of love that was so unfamiliar at first that it was almost frightening. But then she kissed him for the first time, clearing his mind from all his doubts, all his worries, all his regretsfor having snapped at her earlier. Nothing is for sure, and he knew that, but he also knew at the moment that she murmured an apology and he gently nudged her face back up with his nose so that her mouth was back on his, that he was going to marry her one day.

He never would have thought he had it in him to hurt her so much that she would leave him, breaking both their hearts in the process. He pretends to still resent her for it, but the truth is that he's long forgiven her, knowing that she wouldn't have left unless she really didn't see another way for her to go on. And he realizes he was terrible to her, ignored her, disappeared for days on end without even letting her know he was alright, drank himself stupid on the rare occasions that they were home together- but God knows, she had been the only thing in the world that had kept him sane, and still is. He hopes she knows this, but as he watches her now- as the new Director of CTU LA, calm and poised and in control, so different from the scared young woman he had once comforted at this very place- he knows she thinks that he feels he is better off without her, and this kills him because it's pretty much the cause of why he had screwed it all up in the first place.

He hadn't been able to handle the guilt written all over her face, the ever-present pain burning in her eyes, and had felt himself already pulling away from her while he was still in prison. She had always been so easy to comfort, and now with that horrible, merciless glass wall forever between them when she visited, he found himself unable to do anything to make her feel better, which had always been something that came naturally to him. When, after a few months of hell, he was pardoned, he had hoped she would be able to let go of the guilt, but every time he came home from a job interview, turned down once again because of his criminal record, she would turn away from him with self-loathing in her eyes, causing his own heart to clench at the pain he was causing her. After a while, he had even stopped trying to get a job, simply because he couldn't stand her gut-wrenching disappointment when the inevitable rejection came.

The gnawing feeling of helplessness had triggered an inexplicable anger in him, and he had taken it out on her, simply because she was the one who knew him best. He had always done that; he remembers the earlier hours of the day he was arrested, how she had snapped at her the whole time because Chapelle had been pissing him off, because Wayne Palmer was on his back, because they had failed to intercept the virus in Mexico… and he had used her declaring him unwell to do his job as an excuse to be able to vent his frustration at her. As he looks back now, he hates that he spent the last day of their 'happy life' together as he calls it, giving her such a hard time.

As he lets his mind wander back, he marvels at her ability to say so much with so little words. He remembers when he was shot, how he had woken up in the hospital still groggy from all the pain-killers to find her gracefully gliding through the door, but with an urgency he wasn't used to from her. She gently greeted him, bent over to kiss him, and hovered over him for a minute, and he could feel the tremors in her body. And when he asked her how she was doing, she had pulled back a little to look at him, and told him, "You scared the hell outta me." And with that short little sentence, he had known how afraid she had been for him, and how hard she had fought to keep the tears away in order to hide it.

It was the same when he had been released from prison. The doors had opened and he had found her standing there with Jack, and he just sort of stumbled into her arms. Too many emotions were coursing through him to be able to do anything but cling to her and allow her to hang on to him in return, but after a couple of minutes he found his voice and asked her, again, how she was doing. And she had just said, her voice teary and still muffled into his shoulder, "Tony, thank God you're coming home." And, again, he became so painfully aware of the hell she'd gone through in his absence.

But it wasn't as if their lives had been all about pain and terrorists and duty. She'd always had a great sense of fun in her, which his something he misses when he looks at her now, wondering who the person is that she turned into after her departure. He will always love her, no matter what happens between them, but he can't help but feel a pang as he sees her now, eyes cold and emotionless, but with a hidden pain in them that he knows will haunt him for the rest of his life. Was this what he had done to her? Had he really caused the playful, laughing woman who had loved teasing him, become so distrusting, so different from who she had once been that even he had trouble recognizing her?

Finally he allows himself to remember the day she left. He had come home in the early hours, knowing that she wouldn't be happy for the mere fact that he hadn't been home in three days. He had squared his shoulders, took a deep breath and prepared himself for the fight that he felt sure was going to come. But this time she didn't come charging into the hall as soon as she had heard his key in lock, and for a moment he was relieved, forgetting that he had seen her car in the driveway and thinking she was still at work, which would grant him a few more hours to come up with excuses for his behavior. He clumsily made his way to the bedroom, where he planned on crashing for at least a while first. He was so tired he could hardly see straight. He spotted her on the exact same moment as he switched on the light, sitting on the bed, tears on her face, surrounded by packed bags. He had been too flustered and too much in denial to let himself realize what was about to happen, and had simply asked her why she was crying. She looked at him and he could see so many emotions soaring in her eyes; relief that he had come back safely, anger that he had gone in the first place, pain at seeing him in such a state, love for him that made his heart hold on to a pathetic hope that his sight was betraying him, but then, undeniably, dread for what she was about to do. She closed her eyes, as if wanting to protect herself from his ability to always see through her, no matter what shape he is in. She slowly got up, picked up the bags and finally turned to face him. She told him she had wanted to wait until he was home so she could tell him herself.

­"Tell me what?" he had asked, still refusing to anticipate the obvious.

That's when she had become angry, nearly throwing her purse at him in blind fury. She started to shout, but after a few seconds got too overwhelmed by her own emotions so she stopped, closing her eyes and shaking her head. He wanted to put his arms around her, like he had so easily done in that dark hallway at CTU all those years ago. He just wanted to take away her pain, that was all he had ever wanted to do, but he didn't know how to anymore, and he had a strong feeling she wouldn't allow him to anyways.

"I'm sorry," was all she said, her voice hoarse and heavy with sorrow, and with that, she brushed passed him, refusing to meets his eyes, walking out of the room and his life forever.

Jen came into his life just a few weeks later, the day he'd found the divorce papers in the mail. Like on that morning that she had left, he'd headed straight for the bar, so he wouldn't have to finally accept the fact that she was never coming back. Jen had been working there ever since he could remember, and had certainly made it clear to him that she liked him, but he had never showed her the slightest bit ofinterest. Once, when he felt she was going too far with her passes at him, he'd even shoved her aside, snapping, "I'm married, and I love her." The words hurt him, suddenly reminding him of the year before, when he'd been sitting in on the subway minding his own business, when a young woman sat down next to him and spent the next few minutes smiling at him, clearly with intentions. When after a while, she subtly brushed her hand against his knee, he had abruptly got up, telling her loudly so the whole wagon could hear, "I'm married, and we're happy." And now, even in a reflex, he had automatically and instinctively known that they were no longer even close to happy, and hadn't been able to use it in his defence.

The night of the divorce papers, though, Jen appeared to have sensed his need to spill his guts and coaxed the truth out of him. After a while, he finally opened up and told her his wife had left. He told her how he had jeopardized the country's well-being for her, willingly gone to prison for her, and now she was gone and meant it. That moment was the closest he ever came to hating her.

Jen was sympathetic to his complaints, siding wholly with him, which comforted him as much as the circumstances would allow it. "Yeah," she said, when he said he couldn't believe that Michelle would do that to him, "She sounds like a real bitch."

And before he knew what he was doing, her had her pinned against the wall by her arms, his military instincts apparently less far away than he thought. He'd never laid a hand on a woman before in his life except occasionally during interrogation, and yet he couldn't help himself from hissing, "Don't you _ever_ say that again, you understand?" and gripping her arms a little tighter before letting go.

He supposes it wasn't the first time Jen was confronted with this kind of behaviour from men, because when he awkwardly apologized the next day, she graciously accepted and seemed more than ready to forgive him. A month later, he was already living with her. He couldn't live in the house that he had shared with Michelle anymore- it brought back way too many memories of happier times- and moved in with Jen in a pathetic attempt to start a new life, away from everything he had always known. Now, as bad as it makes him feel towards Jen, he can't for the life of him remember why this would ever appeal to him.

He is roused from his thoughts by the familiar clicking of high-heels that he would recognize anywhere, and turns to find her standing almost next to him. She had loosened up a little since she arrived, but he knows her well enough to still sense a certain wariness in her, despite the fact that he realizes she does trust him to at least do his job right. She asks him to bring some new manpower from Division up to speed, and although those people have always annoyed him, he agrees, knowing it has to be done and not wanting to give her any trouble.

He can't get used to the straight hair, no matter how long she's been here, and knows he probably never will. All it does is remind him that things have changed radically since the time when she had allowed him to push the curls out of her face, him not being able to resist brushing his thumb against her cheek in the process; a time when he had woken up to her every single morning, feet entwined, to find her snuggling up closer to him, enabling him to kiss her hair good morning; a time when she had called him 'sweetheart', the word rolling from her lips like it was to most natural things in the world to her.

And suddenly, he feels sick with yearning, with regret, the emotions spreading across his chest rapidly, making it hard for him to even breathe properly. He doesn't know if he can survive parting with her again when this nightmare of a day is over; he doesn't know if he can go back to Jen after being so brutally reminded of his life with Michelle and the light-hearted happiness with which he had once succesfully tackled each day, oneat a time.

He thinks back to the day that he asked her to marry him. He'd gotten down on one knee and held up the ring for her and everything; he was only planning on getting married once and wanted to get the whole thing right, including the proposal. And she'd gasped in delight and disbelief, completely forgetting her insistence that she didn't like surprises, despite the fact that he knew better.

"Michelle, I love you. Will you marry me?"

Those had been his exact words, and he marvels now at how easily he had once been able to express himself. He barely remembers what it feels like to talk about his feelings; it's hard to believe he ever could. It was a goddamn miracle Michelle had gotten him to do it in the first place; he's had the tendency to internalize things since he was a boy. But he had done it for her, because she had made it all seem so natural, so easy.

He wants to do what he should have done months ago. He wants to beg, plead with her to come back to him, tell her that he loves her, that he's sorry, that he _will_ pull himself together. He wants to feel her body against his, wants to be allowed to touch her again, to be able to look at her without feeling lightning bolts of painshoot through himat the thoughtthat she isn't his to love anymore. He doesn't know if it's fair to want her back, to ask her to forgive him for everything he put her through.

Because there is one thing that complicates it all even more. He knows he can't keep doing this- can't keep doing a job that had ruined him once and undoubtedly wouldn't fail to do it again. A person can only live through so much, and both he and Michelle have had more than a fair share of pain and terror over the years because of it. And he knows one thing... If she can ever find it in her heart to forgive him and come back to him, he swears to himself that he will never allow anything to come between them ever again, and will do whatever it takes to keep her safe. He remembers the last time he made himself that promise- it was just seconds after she had called him to tell him she was immune to the virus. And just twenty minutes later, he received that anguishing call where a cold voice would inform him of how close he was to losing her yet again, and that he was the only one in the world who could do anything at all to help her .

He knows he can never go through that again; he still panics at the thought of anything happening to her, despite the fact that before today he hadn't seen herin six months. Still, there hadn't been a day that had gone by without him hoping to God that she was taking care of herself, protecting herself from the horrors she saw others endure every day. He was no longer there to do it for her.

Would she be willing to leave all this for him? He knows he hardly deserves it, but surely she remembers how happy they once were? Surely his drinking hasn't made her forget all that? Sometimes he is convinced that she has repressed it all, but then he sees a trace of the vulnerability in her eyes that he fell in love with, the vulnerability he knows that no one else sees in her anymore. And then he knows that deep down she's in there, his Michelle, under the straight hair and the unfamiliar business suit. He just doesn't know if he has the strength to find her again, and perhaps even more importantly, let her find him.


	2. Michelle

He's the best thing that ever happened to her, and she won't even try to deny that. Just because it ended in tears doesn't take away all the happy moments they'd had together before it all went wrong. And sure, they'd had their differences, they'dquarreled sometimes, but as she looks back now, all those meaningless arguments seem to be blurred, making it hard for her to remember them clearly. She knows one thing, though, and that was that in those first three years, they never once went to bed mad at each other. As she looks at him now- flustered, unshaven, hurting- she knows he doesn't give himself much credit for how wonderful he was before prison changed him. He'd done so many little things for her over the years that made her day every time, causing her to wonder what she had ever done right in her life to deserve him.

One occasion always comes to mind, although she doesn't know why that one in particular. She had been sleeping with socks on her feet ever since she was a child; they were always cold and no amount of rubbing them together had ever helped warm them in the least. When she started dating Tony, he wouldn't hear of her sleeping with her socks on, telling her, "I wanna feel your skin, not your socks."

When she protested that she couldn't sleep with her feet cold, he had promised her that he would always let her warm up her cold feet against his warm ones before going to sleep. Reluctantly, she had agreed, but he had remained true to his promise; every night he clasped her feet between his and rubbed them until they were warm, enabling to her to easily fall asleep. About a year after they had started dating, he'd had to go on a business trip with Jack for a couple of days, and when she'd pushed the covers aside on the first evening that he was gone, she'd found a pair of thick, woollen socks on her pillow, a note with his familiar handwriting on it.

_To keep your feet warm while I'm away._

_I love you._

_Tony_

She fights to urge to squeeze her eyes shut at the memory. She knows where those socks are. They're in that big, carton box that is safely stored away, out of her sight; along with about a million pictures, her wedding ring, one of his Cubs mugs, and her favourite shirt of his, the one she had buttoned around her pillow every single night while he was in prison, hoping that his smell would prod her unconsciousness, so that at least in her dreams she could pretend that the world was a happy place, and that she wouldn't have to spend the next God knows how many years without him.

She hasn't looked through the box since she left him, and still has no desire to, knowing that it would be by far too painful. She's even been on the verge of throwing its contents away several times, but always changed her mind at the last minute, instinctively knowing that, one day if it ever stopped hurting so much, she would want to remember him and their life together.

She cringes at how cruel she was to him earlier today, how she had remained angry in her stubbornness, bringing his drinking into it, while he was obviously past the anger but not at all past the pain. When she had become like this- cold, resentful and defensive- she doesn't know, all she knows is that it hurts less when she doesn't let herself feel anything but the anger she had let take over after she left, allowing it to drown all the hurt, guilt, regret. She'd had the perfect right to leave after the way he treated her. How dare he push her away when she'd done everything humanly possible to make him feel happy, loved, needed?

It was an anger that had stayed with her throughout the months without him; she is ashamed to admit it, but it kept her going. It was either that or live with a constant, gut-wrentching grief that gnawed away at her until she was sure she wouldn't make it another day. Because when, for just a little while, she let her guard down, the unspeakable pain of his absence hit her like a punch in the stomach, causing her to quickly, almost like a blessing, make the anger come back.

But now, just like the first time she ever laid eyes on him, she realizes that he has shattered all her fierce attempts at independence, broken down the walls she had spent so many months building around herself in protection. She is so afraid of getting hurt again; of discovering that leaving him, which was supposed to be such a relief, left her with a pain so physical that at times it had been hard to breathe. And on top of that, there was living with the knowledge that he hadn't come for her after she left, not once, and that thought had made things, if possible, even worse.

But how long had she actually managed to stay mad at him? An hour? It's so pathetic she almost laughs, how she had managed to convince herself that he couldn't affect her anymore, that she was now completely out of his reach. At first, she had been angrier than she even would have thought at the site of him being here- sober and obviously doing his job well, completely ruining all her justifications of having divorced him- but all he had had to do was give her that look, his eyes full of pain and wanting and regret, and she felt herself already giving in to him, asking him to stay, _wanting_ him to stay. After all, didn't she owe him at least that? A chance to rebuild his career? If it hadn't been for her he would be at the CIA in Langley now, for Christ's sake.

She knows she isn't close to being able to deal with the thought of him living with someone else, and doesn't even try. He's told her that he doesn't love this girl, and she believes him, but that doesn't make the idea of it magically easier to take. She imagines this woman comforting him after she had left, and feels her blood run cold. _It should have been me,_ she realizes, _I should have been the one to hold him when he was in pain. But he wouldn't let me. Why did he let her?_

She had barely gone out since the divorce; everything she did reminded of her Tony as it was, and she didn't need various dates with all equally hopeless men to make it all even worse. She had been a little troubled by Bill's obvious interest in her, not quite knowing how to turn him down without making him feel bad, which would undoubtedly make _her _feel bad. So every time he asked her to go for a drink or get a bite to eat, she came up with a flimsy excuse: she was tired, she had a headache, she'd promised her brother she'd go see him… And eventually, he seemed to have gotten the point and stopped asking, making her feel guilty and relieved at the same time. But she knew she had done the right thing. _If _she ever felt the desire to start over with someone else, she wanted to do it right, and not with images of her ex-husband still flashing through her mind at the mere sight of another man.

She is hurt and disappointed that he would even _think_ that she could have slept with someone else while he was still in prison. Of course, things had been difficult between them even then, and she couldn't deny that the thought of not being able to touch him for at least twenty years nearly drove her up the wall, but she never thought he would believe that she would give up on him so quickly, that easily. Hadn't he seen the shape she was in? Hadn't he seen that she missed him so much that she needed to wrap his goddamn shirt around her pillow in order to be able to sleep at night? Or had he just forgotten?

She thinks back, with slight amusement despite herself, to their first date, a few days after the day of the bomb. She had been so nervous and she could tell that he was too, but he had taken complete control of the situation, immediately making her feel at ease. She knew already then that she was in love with him, and felt her heart flutter every time he even smiled at her.

She also remembers her nervousness at bringing him home to meet her family, Danny in particular. He had never liked any of her boyfriends, and had had a tendency to drive them away ever since high school. But Tony had seemed to know this without her having to tell him, and hadn't been too possessive of her when Danny was around, especially not in the physical sense. Instead, he had kept himself busy with the kids, and had managed to win over a then five-year-old Elissa and eight-year-old Matthew in a matter of minutes. And seeing his kids' obvious adoration for her new boyfriend had slowly caused Danny to accept him too, although still a little hesitantly at first. Tony hadn't pushed it; he had just waited patiently for Danny to become comfortable with the whole idea, which he had, eventually.

She spends a lot of time with Danny at the moment; she is grateful for his company and the kids can even coax an occasional laugh from her. They miss Tony, though, and especially Elissa, who turned ten last week, can't seem to grasp why he's never around anymore. She hasn't seen him since he was arrested; he hadn't wanted to see anyone after he was released, especially not any children. She suspects he was afraid of scarring them away. But Elissa hasn't forgotten about him, and asks for him almost every time she sees her, ignoring the looks both Danny and an almost thirteen-year-old Matthew are shooting her.

Once, a few months ago, she had been alone in the house with her niece while Danny was driving Matthew to baseball practise, and Elissa had suddenly said, "Matthew says Uncle Tony was in jail for a while, but that he's out now. But that's not true, right, Aunt Michelle? Jail's only for bad people, right?"

What the hell was she supposed to say to that? What could she possibly tell the child that wasn't a lie and wasn't hurtful? So she had just explained that sometimes people have to make impossible choices that lead to impossible sacrifices, but she could tell by the look on the little girl's face that she didn't understand what that had to do with anything, and felt herself starting to get upset. Elissa looked a little taken aback at this, and had quickly said she was going upstairs to finish her homework. Michelle had willingly let her go.

She is brought back to present by footsteps coming to up the office that is hers now, but had once been his. She looks up to see it is him and he offers her a hesitant smile before entering. He tells her something about his people having found lead that had turned out to be a dead end, so that they were not making much progress in finding the missile. She sighs and nods, and he tells her not to worry, that they'll find it. And she doesn't know why she feels better, although she realizes that he had always had something in him that made her believe that even the worst things would turn out okay. He lingers for a moment, as if not wanting to leave her behind while she's obviously in distress, but she asks him to talk to Jack and find out what he thinks is the best way to handle the situation. He looks at her intently for a moment, then nods and heads back downstairs.

She is aware that he sees a side of her that no one else does, that no one else ever could. He's seen her naked, seen her cry, seen her sleep. He knows how she likes the temperature for her daily shower; he knows how much she can take before finally breaking down. He's always had an incomprehensible gift for seeing straight through her, and she realizes that this hasn't changed, as much as other things have.

She remembers one morning, only a couple of months before his arrest, they had once again gotten up at a ridiculously early hour to go save the world from the evil. He had been making them breakfast while she sat at the kitchen table after having decked it, reading the paper and sipping her coffee. She was so absorbed in an article that she hadn't even been consciously aware of being chilly, and had only realized that she was shivering just a tiny bit when she felt a sweater being slipped around her shoulders. She smiled at him, welcoming the warmth, and then asked him with slight amusement but also with general wondering, how he had known she was cold. He had given her a funny look, and said simply, "Because I know you."

She tries not think of how desperately different this man was from the one who had come home to her after five months of prison. She had watched him slowly change before her eyes while he was in there, and none of her attempts to keep him close seemed to make the slightest bit of difference. He was touchy, distant. He didn't seem happy to see her when she visited. He had a troubled look in his eyes that she had never seen before, and it frightened her.

The relief when he was pardoned was so great that she had sunken to her knees when Jack told her over the phone. He was coming home, he would be himself again, it could be just like before. But after he was returned to her, things got worse instead of better, and so fast. He drank more and more. He couldn't hold on to a job if his life depended on it. He had unfamiliar scars on his body that he wouldn't talk about, was haunted by nightmares he refused to even acknowledge. He spent his days watching numerous Spanish programmes on TV that she couldn't understand, and she couldn't help silently accusing him of doing this on purpose so she would keep her distance. He spent most nights as far away from her as he possibly could, often not reappearing until days had passed and she was frantic.

And then there was the anger, the bitterness, the mood swings. Her asking him, begging him, to get some help for his drinking; his retorts to "just back off, goddammit!". Her promises that the next job interview would be better when he refused to go on another one; his scornful, humorless laugh that she still believed he could ever lead a normal life with 'treason' written on his resumé. He was giving up, succumbing to alcohol and laziness, and she simply could not watch him do it. She would have sold her soul to the devil to make him want to live again, but nothing she did seemed to make anything even a little bit better, driving her to a point where she simply could not take it anymore. He had so many gifts, so many talents; she couldn't watch him waste them all away knowing that it was because of her that he had become like this. She loved him too much for that.

Loving him had always come naturally to her- it was never something she had to try or doubt or even think about; it was just _there_, like a second nature. And it still is. No matter who he is or what he has become or even how much pain he has caused her, she knows she will always love him. She's long stopped trying to deny that, and now she realizes for the first time that she doesn't even want to anymore.

She watches him from her office upstairs, like he had undoubtedly watched her while they were married and their roles had been reversed. It's so strange to see him here again; focused, supportive and doing his job just as well as he used to. She senses the change in him, and although reason tells her that she has to way of really knowing, her instincts insist they he is finally past the trauma that had caused him to so mercilessly push her away. And her heart clenches at this, as much as she is happy for him, because this isn't just a Tony she loves- which she knows by now is not enough, it should be, but it isn't- but it is also a Tony she can live with.

She tells herself to stop thinking that. She divorced him, and she can't expect him to want her back just when his life was finally looking upwards, not when she'd abandoned him when things had been so ugly. She knows she should just be grateful for what she once had, and let him try to move on with his life.

And she thinks maybe she could have learned to live with all that- as much as it would hurt in the beginning- if it wasn't for that look is his eyes when he looks at her, that look that totally betrays his indifferent manner. She realizes that, as well he knows her, she knows him just as well, knows him well enough to sense the yearning in him, even though she had at first been too stubborn to let herself realize it. She isn't sure anymore if she ever doubted whether he still loved her during those horrible first months after his release- dealing with him had made her feel so frustrated and so helpless that she honestly doesn't remember having much room left for doubt- but now she knows for sure that he does, and always had.

But will this day, that- between Tony, Jack and Chloe- oddly reminds her of the past, be able to snap him out of the vicious circle that he had gotten himself into? Will he be able to open up to her, ask her what she knows he wants and has wanted all along, but was unable to express? Or will he pull away again, proving once and for all that he was damaged beyond any ability of hers to help him? She wants him either way; but she needs for him to confirm that he can be the man that he used to be, so that maybe, one day, she will be able to finally forgive herself for all the bad things that have happened to him.


	3. Tony&Michelle

_Here's the last chapter, as promised: it takes place about six months after Day 4… oh and I decided to take pretty much everyone's advice and ignore season 5… I don't want anyone mad at me ;)… _

It hasn't always been easy, but they don't care about that. After all they've been through, a little difficulty is something they don't mind, something they're both more than willing to take along in their journey towards happiness and safety. They know that starting over is never simple, and are just grateful that they have each other to make the more difficult days easier. They know that that is all they can really ask for.

She had made him promise that they would never make the same mistakes again, and he had willingly conceded. And in the beginning they had both been anxious, afraid that some other horror from their past would come back to tear them apart once again. But gradually, as their implicit trust in each other grew, so did the belief that they had truly managed to walk away from the lives they had once led. They are able to laugh again now, to play, to be more or less carefree. They are able to love each other without the constant fear of what might happen if they turn their backs ever for a minute.

This had been harder than either of them could have ever imagined, and had a tendency to sneak up on them when they were least expecting it. Like that one time about two weeks after that day, she had been rummaging through his cloths in an attempt to find a jacket that matched what he was wearing after he claimed he didn't have one.

"What about that kaki green one?" she called to him, scanning the wardrobe looking for it, "The one we bought in Santa Monica when we went there for the weekend a couple years ago."

He didn't answer, but she heard his footsteps heading towards the room she was in. When she couldn't find it, the thought struck her that maybe he didn't have it anymore, maybe he had gotten rid of it while they were apart. When he entered the room, she turned to look at him, and he was staring at her intently, as if waiting for her to remember something on her own because he had no desire to remind her of it. She had been puzzled, not understanding his attitude, and asked what was wrong. He scratched the side of his face when he realized he would have to tell her what she'd obviously repressed.

"It uh… it's the one I was wearing… that day… that guy was wearing it when…"

And suddenly she remembered and saw the car explode again in front of her eyes, with someone wearing Tony's cloths inside it, wearing that jacket she had always loved on him. She nodded and turned away from him so he wouldn't see the tears of panic that were threatening to spill over as it all came back. She had refused to let herself think about all that until now, telling herself that it was over, but now it had caught her completely off guard, causing the overwhelming despair she had felt come back in quick, violent waves of pain. He had seen her start to crumble, and felt so immensely grateful that- like when he had returned to CTU after he had been taken hostage- he once again instinctively knew what to do. He put his arms around her from behind, pulling her close, whispering soft words of reassurance in her ear. She turned around and buried herself into him, enabling him to soothingly run his hand up and down her back, kissing the spot where her neck meets her shoulder, the spot he knows is the first place to tense up when she is upset. When she pulled back to look at him, his fingers automatically moved to clear away her tears, and as her eyes met his, he could tell that she was calmer, that his natural gift for comforting her had seemed to become a part of him once again.

Leaving CTU had been one of the strangest experiences in their lives. Parting with Chloe, who had annoyed them both on more than one occasion in the past, had been especially hard. The three of them were now forever connected in a terrible secret that they would all have to take to their grave if they wanted to stay alive. That brings with it a bond, a mutual respect, an unwavering trust, whether you want it to or not.

They think about Jack often, hoping that he is alright, hoping that he is safe. They check up on Kim as often as they can without risking that she might start to feel smothered; they both feel a certain responsibility when it comes to the daughter their friend left behind. They hadn't seen her in a long time, and even though they had all watched her grow from a girl into a woman while she was working at CTU, the toddler on her hip that called her 'Mommy' and the engagement ring that had been placed on her finger, ironically, on the morning Jack had fled, still gave her a maturity that neither of them had quite expected. They watch her struggle to come to terms with her father's death, watch her suffer a little less each time they visit, hating the fact that they cannot tell her the truth. And she is always so happy to see them, making it even harder to lie, even when they know it is for her own good and that Jack would have wanted it this way.

They still live in LA, but had contemplated moving away for a long time before deciding to stay after all. They had lived in Michelle's tiny apartment for a few months before starting to feel crammed and moving into a house very similar to the one they had owned before the divorce. She smiles as she thinks back to the first time Tony came to the apartment, just mere hours after they had dropped Jack off by the train tracks. She watched him take in her home with some confusion, before turning to her and saying, "Michelle, this isn't like you. You don't like small places, you always needed room." And she had shook her head slowly, smiling a little at how well he still knew her and answered, "I haven't been home much, I promise you. I was either at work or at Danny's." He had looked at her intently, sensing what she hadn't said: that she hadn't been able to handle the emptiness she had been forced to live with. He stayed with her that night, but only because she asked him to. He didn't want to rush anything on her.

The next day he had asked her, a little apprehensively but wanting to know with certainty, if she was sure she wanted to give up her job for good. He was sitting across from her on the couch, and put down his coffee mug on the table so he could reach for her hand as he added, "I mean… I know I'm asking a lot from you. So please don't do this unless you're really sure." She shook her head and eased her way between his knees before hugging him around the neck and saying softly, "I just want to be with you. That's all I want." He wanted to ask, again, if she was sure, but felt himself already squeezing her back, accepting and being grateful for her reply.

He would never forget the moment when he had gotten back from Jen's to pick up his stuff and found her in the kitchen making tea, earlier that day. He had left when she was still asleep, after briefly waking her up with a gentle kiss and a whisper that he would be back in a few hours, and then letting her doze off again. Now she was wearing a peach-colored bathrobe that only reached her thighs, revealing her gorgeous, pale, smooth legs. But it wasn't that that caught his eye, nor the spark that seemed to have replaced the hollowness he had seen in her eyes just yesterday; the only thing he saw were the damp curls that had returned after her shower. Without a word, he dropped his bags and made his way across the room to her, smiling as he touched a lock of hair that had escaped her loose ponytail with not quite trembling fingers. She smiled too, welcoming him back and enjoying the sensation of his hands fingering her hair and stroking her face, like they had done a million times before. Their eyes met and they kissed, and then he lifted her up and carried her to the bedroom, where they made love for the first time in much, much too long.

They were remarried a few weeks before they moved into their new house, although both their wedding rings had been back on their fingers long before that. It had been her that had gotten down on one knee this time, her that had said the words, "Tony, I love you. Will you marry me?", and they had both known even then that it would remain an inside joke between them for the rest of their lives.

Their parents had been delighted with their reunion and had wanted to celebrate their second wedding with a big party like the first one. But neither of them wanted that. "We already had a big party the last time," Michelle had pointed out, "I think this time should just be for us." Tony agreed full-heartedly. So they eloped and got married in a beautiful small chapel just outside LA, with only the two of them present. Their parents had pretended to be angry when they found out, but it was pretty clear that all they wanted was for their children to be happy.

And that's what they are now. Happy. They're both almost afraid to believe it, afraid that they'll let themselves get carried away it'll be so much harder if everything falls apart again. Even though they know deep down that they have no reason to be afraid, it is a fear that is so deeply burned into them that they forget sometimes.

"Honey, that's why we left CTU," they remind each other in a moment of panic, "It's over now. Now maybe we can have a shot at leading a normal life."

That's what they have now, and it is so much more than just happiness. For the first time since they've even known each other, they have a 'normal' life together. They are able to sleep in more than once a month. Go away for the weekend without the distinct possibility that they would be called in for work. Make plans with friends and family without worrying that they might have to cancel at the last minute. Go to sleep at night without always being a little afraid of what tomorrow might bring.

And they treasure this newfound luxury, never needing to be reminded of how precious it is. They lived life on the edge far too long, and have come much too close to losing everything way too many times to ever forget that.

They are both also relieved that they are able to argue again. In the beginning that had been impossible; they were both much to eager to give in to the other, still wrestling with their own guilt, secretly afraid of pushing each other away again, and this had caused some inner frustration sometimes. But now they are able to let it go, tell the other exactly what they think, occasionally argue over stupid, meaningless things and even half enjoy it. Because they know that after every fight there is a reconciliation full of hugs and kisses and I love yous.

He still doesn't like to think about the way he had treated her before she left; it still bothers him, just like it still bothers her that she had been willing to let him die if it saved the rest of the world, even if it broke her in the process. She had voiced her concerns early on, several times, and had always been vigorously reassured by him that she did the right thing. This had made her a little angry sometimes, and she had even snapped at him once, "Oh, so it's okay to sacrifice a nation for me, but not for you?" He trailed his thumb across her cheek, silently telling her, begging her, to let it go. She sighed and looked up to him, promising herself and him that she would try. He relented, knowing that this was all she was capable of giving him right now.

It had taken him nearly a month to crack, and when he finally did, it happened with a passion neither of them had seen coming. He had woken her up in the middle of the night, the words tumbling painfully from his mouth even while she was still protesting that she was too tired to get up. "I'm sorry… for everything. For drinking, for disappearing all the time, for yelling at you… God, I yelled at you… I wish I could take it all back, change it all, but I can't and… I just need you to know… I'm so sorry, Michelle, I'm so, so sorry…" She had been horrified that he still felt so guilty about all the things that had gone wrong, and placed her fingers to his mouth, shaking her head and just saying "no" over and over again, until he'd calmed down. Then she told him it didn't matter anymore; they'd survived it and all the rest was just back round noise. She was relieved to see him chuckle at that, despite the pain that was still very much in his eyes, and instantly knew that he, just like she, would manage to leave behind the guilt eventually. They were both starting to realize how much easier it is to forgive a loved one than it is yourself.

And pretty soon, in just a few months, there will be another person to love. It hadn't exactly been planned- they had both wanted to wait until their income from the business they had started up together was a little more stable- but now that it is happening, they couldn't be more pleased than if they had planned it years in advance. Few people know about it yet, and no one save the two of them know the sex- but already they dream of a little girl with his dark, Spanish complexion and her wild, disobedient curls. They have already chosen a godmother (Kim Bauer) and a godfather (Danny Dessler), even though the people in question are not yet aware of their future duties towards a child they have only been told about a few weeks ago. But if there is one thing Tony and Michelle have learned in the past years, it is the ability to form a good judge of character, and they know their chosen ones will not let them down.

They will name her Carmen Jackie Almeida, and they have vowed to each other that she will be the happiest kid in the world.

They have found, perhaps for the first time since the passionate kiss they shared all those years ago in CTU, a certain sense of stability that they hadn't even been consciously aware of lacking until recently. They love each other more than life itself. Their business is starting to become successful. They have a baby on the way that they adore even now that it's just a tiny bean inside of her. And most importantly, they know that they will never allow anything to change all this.

They can never go back to their days of protecting the world from nuclear bombs, deadly viruses and overrides. They have passed on their knowledge to others and moved on, hoping that their replacements will do the job with the same passion as they did, though, hopefully, with much less obstacles.


End file.
